Clear Away The Doubt
by nyagcnopinkuneko
Summary: Things change without being noticed.  Once noticed, those changes can cast doubt on everything.  Kurt doesn't know when things changed for him, but he knows the sooner he separates himself from the doubt, the sooner he might find happiness.
1. Chapter 1

"Come on, Stefani," Kurt groaned, taking a deep breath and pausing before giving the ignition another turn.

His Escalade hiccupped and sputtered, gasping desperately, but failing to come to life. Kurt growled in frustration, slamming his hands against the steering wheel and then hissing in pain. He absently massaged the heel of one palm with his fingers and attempted to assess his situation.

It was six pm. The parking lot of the now closed public library was nearly deserted but for a small, dark blue truck, which Kurt pointedly ignored, parked at the other end. Despite the recent summer swelter it was abnormally cool out.

And it was pouring rain.

_I wonder if it's the spark plug_, Kurt thought, figuring it if was, that was an easy enough fix, or at least, it would be in fair weather.

Kurt rummaged around in the back seat for his gym clothes, quickly pulling off his Vivienne Westwood cowl top and donning the dark red McKinley T-shirt. His tool box and a few spare parts were in the trunk. Before getting out he popped the hood and raced out into the torrent, almost immediately getting drenched. He yanked the things he needed from the back of his hulking SUV and lugged it to the front.

The slender boy wiped his hands on damp denim clad thighs and tugged up the hood of his car, making sure the latch was in place so that he could start determining what was wrong. A groan almost immediately escaped his lips.

"Sparkplug alright," he confirmed, his fingers reaching in to wipe away the oil build up and grime.

He hated to get his hands dirty most of the time, but he'd grown fond of working with cars, especially since his dad had taught him how, but never used it as an excuse to man him up. From what Kurt could remember, his mother had worked with his dad on occasion. His father lived by the motto that everyone should know a thing or two about fixing cars, because it was likely at one point you'd own your own. A person who could figure out what was wrong with their car would never be scammed by a mechanic.

As Kurt wiped away the scum, his frown deepened.

"Shit," he whispered, using his other hand to wipe away the rain that was dripping into his vision.

It looked as though parts of the spark plug had completely corroded away. There was no way Kurt could fix it now. He didn't have a replacement plug and even with the car off it wasn't safe to work on something that had to deal with the car's electric systems in the rain.

"Something wrong?"

A voice behind him caused Kurt to jump in surprise, nearly bashing his head on the roof of the car.

"Son of a-," he spat, turning around and glaring at the owner of all too familiar dark blue truck, "What the hell are you trying to do? I could have been hurt!"

Dave looked up out of his window at the rain and then leaned out a little.

"Do you need a ride home," he asked, ignoring the frustrated tone of the smaller boy's voice.

Kurt let out a huffy snort and tossed back the hair that was falling in his face.

"No, _thank you_," he replied crisply, "I'm just going to call my dad. His mechanic shop has towing service. Why are you even still here? Were you waiting for me to leave?"

Dave shrugged, "I always wait for you to leave."

Kurt gave Dave a wry, bemused smile, "I've noticed."

The two of them had started meeting at the library to plan out PFLAG meetings and events for the upcoming school year only a couple of weeks ago, after Kurt had come back from a month long family vacation. As if by some unspoken cue, Dave always waited for Kurt to leave first. Kurt wasn't sure what that cue had been or why Dave insisted on doing it, but he once waited in the parking lot for an hour to see if Dave would leave before he did, then gave up in exasperation when he realized that the footballer was clearly waiting for him to make the first move.

"You can wait in my car until he gets here, I can turn the heat on and you can dry a little," the large boy suggested, looking a little bit uncomfortable offering.

Kurt could hear the obvious hesitance in Dave's voice, but underlying the boy's tone was the slight hint of simply wanting to be hospitable. Kurt imagined that he looked a little bit like a drowned rat at this point. The least he could do was thank Dave for the offer, whether he chose to accept it or not.

Looking at his car and imagining sitting there shivering and cold was wholly unappealing, however, and he crossed his arms over his chest and nodded at Dave before shoving everything on his car back into place, letting the hood down and placing the tools back in the trunk. He ran quickly for the passenger's side of Dave's car, hopping in and turning to see the jock offering him a small towel.

"Thanks . . ." he said slowly, eyeing the piece of fabric suspiciously.

"It's clean," Dave huffed, sounding impatient, "And it's terrycloth, so it's not going to like . . . tear up your fancy skin or anything."

Kurt grimaced, realizing that he'd just been called out for simply judging a towel offered out of kindness. He nodded, mollified, and accepted the towel, secretly pleased that it was definitely plush, soft terrycloth that smelled of Downy fabric softener.

"You gonna call your dad or . . ." Dave mumbled, almost too softly for Kurt to hear as he ran the towel over his hair.

"Oh," Kurt paused, looking a bit sheepish as he fished his phone out of his back pocket.

The cover was a bit damp from the rain, but overall, it didn't seem any worse for wear. Kurt punched the redial quickly and held the phone up to his ear with his shoulder as he continued toweling off the moisture from his skin.

"Hummel Tires and Lube."

The familiar voice of his dad's right hand man, Chuck, was a welcome sound in Kurt's ear.

"Hey, Chuck, can you give me Dad," Kurt asked.

"Sure, hold up a sec, Little Boss."

It was a thing. Kurt had been "Little Boss" ever since he stepped into his father's shop and put his first set of rims on, when he was ten. Even though he was sixteen now and hardly little anymore, Chuck was nearing fifty and to him, Kurt would probably always be "Little Boss". The singer didn't mind, really. Chuck was the closest thing he had to a grandfather these days.

He heard clatter and the distant hum of rotors in the background and then a soft shuffle as someone picked up the receiver.

"'Sup, Kurt," Burt asked.

"So . . ." Kurt started, his voice lifting a little bit in anticipation. He threw a sideways glance at Dave, who raised an eyebrow at him.

"So, you know how you've been telling me to bring my car in for a check up for the last two months," he asked, picking at the tight, rain-soaked fabric of his jeans.

"Yes . . .?"

By the tone of his father's voice, Kurt could tell the man was already guessing this conversation was not about to lead to good news.

"And you know how I've kind of been putting it off," Kurt continued, only for his father to give an exasperated sigh at the other end of the line.

"What is it, Kurt? I don't really have time to play guessing games."

Kurt winced, one eye squeezing shut, "Well, the sparkplug is kinda shot . . . and I don't have a spare, which means the car won't start which means I'm sitting here in Dave's truck wai-."

"You're sitting where," Burt cut him off and the other eye shut.

"He saw that I was having trouble and offered to wait until the tow truck came," Kurt explained, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He heard a non-committal grunt in the receiver, but nothing other than that. His eyes opened slowly, one at a time, as if he was expecting to see his dad standing right in front of him with a look of disapproval on his face.

"So . . . do you think you can come get me with the tow truck," Kurt asked, rubbing his hand nervously over his thigh a few times.

"I'll send Chuck," Burt said in a gruff tone that Kurt took to mean that he didn't really want to see or deal with Dave if the boy was going to be around when he got there. Kurt thanked his dad and hung up.

Burt had never been wild about the idea of them spending so much time together to begin with. When he first heard about the Bully Whips situation he'd nearly blown a gasket and it had taken a solid week for Kurt to convince his father that heading up a PFLAG chapter with Dave was a good idea and, if anything, it would help the homophobic jock to educate himself and become more informed about the gay community.

His father relented, dubiously, stating clearly that they were always to meet in public places, never at Dave's house and always in broad daylight, adding that the less he had to deal with Dave, the better, which was a not so subtle way of saying that he would rather Dave wasn't in their home either.

Obviously, Kurt couldn't and wouldn't tell anyone the real reason he and Dave were doing this, but that was also sort of the whole reason he _wanted_ to do this. The more Dave knew, the safer he'd feel, hopefully, with coming out. Admittedly, the more time Kurt spent with the closeted lineman, the more he wanted Dave to come out.

"Thanks for the towel," Kurt said softly, finally turning his attention back to the boy who had sat silently next to him for the last five minutes.

"Well, when you do sports, you keep a lot of them around," Dave shrugged, taking the towel from Kurt and throwing it haphazardly through the window into the covered bed of the truck, "Is it warm enough in here for you?"

Kurt nodded wordlessly, plucking at his T-shirt. He wondered for a second if this was the most dressed down Dave had ever seen him. His hair was a mess, his skin was damp, his jeans were likely leaving a huge wet spot on the fabric of the seat and his shirt was clinging uselessly to his body.

"Ugh, I look like a mess," he thought aloud.

In his peripherals, Kurt saw Dave roll his eyes and rest his chin on his fist, which was propped up by the elbow on the narrow sill of the vehicle's window.

"What," Kurt asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Nothin'," Dave replied, looking at Kurt and shaking his head, "But only you would complain about looking like a mess, when really, you only look like you just got a little bit wet."

"And that means what, exactly," Kurt snorted, arching an eyebrow at Dave, who shrugged his shoulders and looked away.

"Never mind," the bigger boy grumbled.

Kurt sighed and sat back against the window, his front facing into the car. He looked around the truck, what there was of it anyway. It was spacious inside for its size, definitely a gas guzzler, but comfortable. Everything was up to specs; there was a nice five-CD deck with MP3 playing capacity, AC/Heat, surround sound speakers, LED display, GPS, the entire works. Kurt nodded in unconscious approval. With the exception of being a threat to ecology, this was a nice truck, if Kurt did say so himself.

"What's her name," the vocalist said after a long silence passed between them.

"What," Dave asked, lifting an eyebrow in confusion, broken out of his obvious trance, "Oh," he stuttered, "Roxy," he replied, "First song that played on my radio after I got her was The Police's 'Roxanne' so . . ."

Kurt nodded in approval once again, "Not a bad name for a truck this nice," he conceded.

"Bet I can figure out your Escalade's name in three tries," Dave snorted and Kurt crossed his arms over his chest, his chin raised.

"Oh, really? Challenge accepted," Kurt replied with a crisp edge to his voice, "Three guesses, no more."

Dave canted his body a little to face Kurt better, his jaw set and his eyes narrowed a little in thought. Kurt did his best to avoid watching the way Dave's jaw muscles popped and bulged as he worked them together, or the way his lips pursed slightly, or the slight snap of golden brown in the taller boy's eyes as he mulled it over.

"Alexander," the jock finally tried, but Kurt could tell from the way Dave spoke that it was a throw away guess that he knew was wrong.

Kurt shook his head with a smug smile on his face, his eyebrow raised in intrigue.

"Of course not," Dave concluded with a snort, shaking his head a little bit.

Kurt watched as Dave cocked his head to one side, this time obviously deep in thought, as if he were digging for something in his memory, and then narrowed his eyes when a slow smile formed over the football player's features.

"Stefani," Dave replied, confidence lacing his voice.

Kurt's face went blank and there was a sharp sound as Dave clapped his large hands together.

"I'm right, aren't I," he crowed, not loudly, but in definite triumph as Kurt nodded, shocked and mildly impressed.

"How the hell did you guess that," the singer asked.

Dave rolled his eyes.

"I knew your SUV's name would have something to do with Gaga, but I didn't figure you'd be obvious enough to actually _name her_ Gaga, so I figured you'd probably use that cuckoo head's real name," Dave laughed wickedly, "It was just a matter of remembering what the hell her real name was."

"'Cuckoo head'," Kurt scoffed, put off by Dave's completely lame insult, "You want to call the most influential performer of our time a name and you choose 'cuckoo head'?"

Dave's smile fell into a defensive mask, "Not all of us were born with razor blades for tongues, _Hummel_."

It was a warning. The moment last names came into play Kurt usually took it as a sign that he'd gone too far. Dave was a lot more sensitive than he let on and even though he wasn't bullying anymore and definitely had a lot more control of his anger, he could still go on the defensive sometimes. Kurt didn't feel threatened by it, but he had been watching the boy's body language ever since he'd returned to McKinley and spent a lot of time over his month long vacation thinking about the best way to deal with Dave once he got back.

The first thing he'd done was attempt to clear the air between them as much as possible. Despite his right to be furious with Dave for bullying and shoving him, he'd apologized to the larger boy for the insults about his intelligence and size. In many ways, Dave was a lot like Burt. He didn't have the best way with the spoken word, but Kurt had to admit that the lineman was obviously smart. After all, Dave was going to be taking college level prep courses his senior year. Whether he got scouted or not it was very highly likely that the lineman would be picked up for an academic scholarship or two.

He hoped that would even the playing field between them and make Dave a little less resistant to all the information and 'education' Kurt would be throwing at him, and though Dave showed mild traces of ambivalence, for the most part, he'd listened intently and done all that Kurt had asked of him. To say that their 'relationship' was moving apace was a fair statement.

They'd still had their fair share of set-backs.

Kurt opened his mouth to offer an apology when he heard a honk alongside Dave's truck and he turned to see Chuck maneuvering the tower into position to hook up Kurt's Escalade. He turned to Dave, who was staring out his front windshield wordlessly, his jaw muscles still working together. Kurt let his eyes flick over the other boy's profile for a moment before speaking. He wondered, briefly, what was going on in the Bully Whip's mind.

"Thanks for letting me come in and dry off and keep warm," he said in a polite voice, holding back a soft smile when Dave nodded curtly.

Kurt let his gaze linger for a moment longer, only to be pulled out of his reverie by a second honk. Chuck obviously wanted him out of the truck sooner rather than later, probably by order of Burt.

"Anyway, see you next week," the countertenor quipped hopefully, popping the handle and stepping out of the car, "Take care on the roads on your way home."

Kurt was about to turn away and close the door before he paused to add one more thing.

"It's okay for you to go ahead of me this time, thanks for always waiting."

Then he closed Roxy's door and bounded over to help Chuck get the tow line in place. He distantly heard the rev of Dave's engine and when he turned around to look, the dark blue truck was already pulling out of the library parking lot. He saw the car stop just before it rounded the corner out of sight, as if the driver was hesitating.

"_Roxanne, you don't have to put on the red light_," Kurt sang softly to himself as Dave's truck finally turned and was gone.

"What's that," Chuck called to him through the torrent of rain.

"Nothing," Kurt shouted back as the two of them secured the line and drove out of the lot as well.

**o.O.o.G.o.L.o.E.o.E.o.O.o**

Coffee with Blaine, it was an every day occurrence with the exception of the days Kurt had PFLAG meetings with Dave. Kurt sat in the Lima Bean across from his boyfriend, who was still tanned nicely from his summer job at Six Flags. The Warbler was enthusiastically _retelling_ the story of how he danced with a six year old girl who promptly threw up on him after he spun her around only once. Kurt was doing the smile and nod routine, something that had become an alarmingly normal practice for him when he was with Blaine. He didn't want to say the other boy was boring, but he never had new material.

"That sounds like it was so much fun," Kurt offered his usual sarcastic remark and tittering laugh, to which Blaine simply grinned obliviously, taking another large sip of his medium drip.

"Well, at least I didn't have to pay for the dry cleaning and-," the shorter one made to continue before Kurt cut him off.

"And you got the rest of the day off, which you spent at the lake playing volleyball with a bunch of random guys you'd just met," Kurt finished the story with a slight edge of boredom in his tone, rolling his eyes.

He looked to see that Blaine's expression was sheepish and a little hurt.

"I'm sorry, honey," Kurt blushed, reaching over and grabbing Blaine's hand, only for the darker haired boy to pull it away, his face melting into an offended grimace, "I'm sorry," Kurt insisted, "It's just . . . you've told me that story about six times already and I-."

"And you're just sick of hearing it, I get it," Blaine fumed, quietly pouting to himself.

Kurt swore under his breath. He wondered how he'd possibly come to date someone who was a bigger drama queen than himself. As their relationship progressed, Blaine's self-confidence issues had slowly worked their way to the surface in a more prominent way. He bordered on needy and it both bothered and worried Kurt that Blaine was slowly becoming someone completely different than the upbeat, well-spoken boy he'd first met. It was starting to become a chore to coax Blaine back into his usual bubbly state.

"I'm sorry, Blaine," he said softly, offering his hand and waiting for the shorter boy to begrudgingly take it, "I know you're just excited about your time at Six Flags. I'm really sorry that I couldn't come watch you perform," he offered, hoping that bringing up a fault of his own would distract Blaine momentarily.

"It wasn't like you could help it," Blaine moped, taking Kurt's hand, which allowed Kurt to rub the back of it gently, "I know you wanted to come."

"I did," Kurt confirmed with a gentle smile, "I really did want to come and support you. I know you were amazing."

Blaine nodded and gave a shy shrug. Kurt smiled triumphantly. Praising and complimenting Blaine was always the ticket to making the diminutive boy feel better.

"I was pretty amazing," Blaine conceded, and Kurt could hear the half-joke in his voice.

He gently patted Blaine's hand and released it, taking a sip of his coffee. He looked around the shop for a moment and choked as he swallowed, his eyes coming to rest on an unexpected face watching him in the crowd.

"You okay, Kurt," Blaine asked, his thick eyebrows knitting together in concern.

Kurt gave a couple of desperate coughs, nodding even as his eyes watered and saliva filled his mouth. Blaine reached over and pounded his back a few times. Kurt's eyes were still locked with the ones staring at him from across the shop, but his boyfriend didn't seem to notice that his attention was elsewhere.

He wondered, as his fit died down, just how long the other person had been watching, if they could hear what he and Blaine had been talking about and what they were thinking as they watched the two of them interact.

"You okay, Kurt," Blaine's voice cut through his thoughts and Kurt leaned back in his chair as Blaine moved back to his place.

Kurt nodded, attempting to refocus on his boyfriend but finding himself hyper-aware of the boy staring at him from across the room.

"I'm fine," he insisted with a wan smile as he picked up the movement of the red jacket in the corner of his vision.

_He's leaving_, Kurt thought, both relieved and slightly disappointed.

"Kurt . . .? Kurt," Blaine's voice interrupted his thoughts and Kurt snapped to attention.

"It's like you're in another world," the curly-haired boy chuckled.

To Kurt, Blaine seemed both amused and annoyed by Kurt's struggle to remain focused. Kurt frowned apologetically, the corners of his lips pursed together.

"I'm sorry, hon," Kurt pressed his coffee cup to his lips, "What where you saying?"

"I was asking you what your plans were for tomorrow," Blaine reiterated, his eyes sparkling with mirth despite the awkward fact that his boyfriend was obviously distracted.

"Tomorrow is Thursday," Kurt reminded Blaine, "My plans are the same as they are every Thursday now."

Blaine sighed and Kurt lifted an eyebrow as the boy shook his head.

"Look, I told you at the beginning of the summer that this was how it was going to be. I'm serious about this PFLAG chapter and about making it a success at McKinley," Kurt stated, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I understand that," Blaine said in an insistent tone, "But I still don't understand why you starting up the chapter has to include _him_."

The Warbler's mouth was twisted down in a sharp frown and Kurt's eyes narrowed.

"I am not sure how many times I'm going to have to tell you and everyone else that we have nothing to worry about as far as Dave is concerned before you'll all believe me," Kurt mumbled with disdain, "He may still be the biggest closet case ever, but he isn't, by nature, a violent guy. He's . . . polite and smart and scared. You helped me, Blaine. It's time for me to pay it forward.

"You're too nice for your own good," Blaine scoffed lightly, gulping down the rest of his coffee, "Just one of the many reasons I love you, I guess."

The corner of Kurt's mouth quirked up in a crooked, half-hearted smile.

"Well," Kurt sniffed, "If my being nice is a reason you _guess_ you love me, then I _guess_ I'm thankful."

The two of them smirked at each other over the table before Blaine suggested heading out for their movie. Kurt's fingers laced comfortably with Blaine's and for a moment, Kurt was aware of how everything with the Warbler simply felt . . . comfortable.


	2. Chapter 2

"You're kidding me, right," Dave's eyebrows were practically glued to his hairline and Kurt shook his head firmly.

"No, I'm not," the smaller boy replied, "If we do this, we're going full-stop, no hiding."

Dave licked his lips nervously and Kurt watched the movement, his eyes narrowing for a second.

"Dave, we've been meeting together in public for almost a month," Kurt finally said.

"I chose the library for a reason," Dave said in a harsh whisper, "It may say 'public' on the sign but no one is ever here."

"You were my personal body guard for two weeks," Kurt protested.

"I doubt most people thought I was doing it by choice," Dave fired back.

Kurt sat back, his face red and his expression indignant. He studied the other boy's face until Dave finally broke eye contact and looked down at his notes. Kurt had always figured, even with the apology and taking the escorting so seriously that Dave had been begged to walk around with and protect him.

"Were you," he asked softly.

Dave's hands fidgeted on top of his notebook.

"When Tana suggested it . . . I thought it was a good idea," Dave replied after a long moment, "Not because it was good for our campaign, because I didn't care about that, but because . . ."

Kurt's face twisted into a perplexed mask as Dave's explanation dropped off into an uncertain silence. He'd seen that look of reluctance on the larger boy's face before. Dave seemed, at his core, the type to express himself honestly as long as it wasn't a direct threat to him, and since Kurt had already figured out Dave's big secret, he felt the athlete was less inclined to hold back from him.

The fact that he seemed reluctant now made Kurt worry.

"Because what, Dave," he coaxed gently, reaching out and tentatively touching the other boy's hand.

It was almost like he had experienced static shock, the way Dave immediately jerked his hand away. Kurt frowned, and a stabbing pain bloomed in his chest in reaction to the speed with which Dave recoiled from him, as if he had been burned.

"What is your problem," Kurt snapped.

Dave gave him a level stare and Kurt stared back.

"I don't want to talk about it," Dave grunted.

Kurt bristled, his hands balling into fists.

"So we're going to play this game again, where I ask you what's wrong and you avoid telling me," Kurt asked, his chin lifted in defiance.

"Why is it that you think I'm required to tell you _everything_ that's on my mind," the larger boy's brows knit tightly together, "Do you tell your little boyfriend everything you're thinking? Your brother? Your dad? We're barely even friends. You don't need to know everything."

Kurt's mouth opened and shut, stunned into silence. Dave's lips formed a thin line and he looked back over his notes.

"A rally in the quad within the first week of school," the former bully said in an attempt to continue the meeting.

Kurt nodded, but he felt numb. At what point had he come to think that he was entitled to answers from Dave? Was it because of their history, or the jock's repeated candidness with him? Was it because he considered Dave his friend?

That thought tumbled around in Kurt's brain and he swallowed hard as he realized its truth.

"You don't consider us friends," Kurt managed, his voice pitched high with nervous excitement.

Dave looked at Kurt and the smaller teen felt his heart race. An emotion Kurt couldn't place struck him.

"Do you?"

Dave's voice was low, almost, Kurt thought, unsure.

"I . . . I think so," he said to Dave softly.

"Even after everything . . ."

Kurt couldn't tell from the tone of Dave's voice if it was meant to be a question or a statement. If it was the former, was the question rhetorical or meant to be answered? If it was the latter, was it meant to be agreed with or dismissed?

"I want us to be friends," Kurt said with surprising conviction, "Doing things any other way, simply being civil, it's exhausting. I don't hate you and I'm not angry with you anymore. I just want to help you. That's what friends do."

He saw Dave's shoulders slump, almost in defeat. He wanted to take it as a sign of acquiescence, but since Dave was being as tight-lipped as ever, he couldn't be sure. Still, Kurt figured that Dave's silence was a better reaction than outright protesting.

"Is that 'cool' with you, Dave," Kurt finally asked after an overlong stretch of silence.

Dave seemed to contract into a tight ball, his shoulders rolling up under his ears and his body curling inwards.

"Yeah, that's fine," the jock conceded, "We can be friends."

Kurt's face broke into a slow, satisfied smile.

"Good . . . that's good," he commented, shocked to find that he felt relieved by this development.

"So," he tightly clasped his hands together, one index finger pointed outwards at Dave as he changed the subject back to the point of the meeting, "I was thinking we could have New Directions perform- don't you give me that look, Dave Karofsky . . ."

**o.O.o.G.o.L.o.E.o.E.o.O.o**

Things progressed more easily after that. Thursdays with Dave became as routine for Kurt as coffee with Blaine or Saturdays in the shop with his father. Conversation wasn't as strained either. Strangely enough, for as much as Kurt felt he was teaching Dave, he felt he was learning even more. The larger boy still seemed completely terrified by the idea of coming out but at least he seemed to be progressing steadily in the direction of accepting himself. Kurt could only hope that getting the logistics in place for the PFLAG chapter was helping.

The one thing that was bothering Kurt was how isolated Dave seemed. One day, after a meeting, when Kurt had, as he usually did, pulled out of the library parking lot, he doubled back to follow Dave from a distance. He was mildly surprised to find that the other boy drove straight home and went into his house. Kurt did this a few times, and was equally perplexed when each time, Dave went directly home. After the third time Kurt actually waited for an hour to see if the boy would come back out of his house.

If Dave had ever noticed he was being followed, he never said anything, but Kurt didn't think for a moment that the guy hadn't noticed Kurt's sleek black Escalade following him. In any case, it only served to cause Kurt to worry about Dave's social life, or lack thereof.

Finally, after wrapping up after a particularly quiet but productive hour of planning out a meetings and events schedule when Kurt felt the sudden need to ask the question that was eating him up.

"What have you been up to this summer," he probed, "I mean, aside from this? I haven't really seen you around town except for that one time at the Lima Bean."

Dave paused in packing up his book bag, the tips of his ears slightly pink, and Kurt wondered for a moment if he would be called out on his slight fib of "not having seen Dave around".

"Not much," he said gruffly and Kurt restrained a sigh of relief as Dave shoved his notebook deeply into the recesses of his bag, "Hanging out at home, playing video games. You know . . ."

"You haven't been hanging out with Azimio or anything," Kurt replied, his tone surprised, "Thought you guys were joined at the hip."

Dave gave a dry chuckle, "Heh, not so much since I got into the Bully Whips. He called me out for being a pussy-whipped punk and then started avoiding me, plus he graduated and he's getting ready to move for college. Even if he weren't avoiding me, he doesn't exactly have time for me, either."

"Oh," Kurt said softly, tucking his pen into his pencil case, "So you've been spending your summer . . ."

"Like I said, hanging out at home and playing video games. Caught the midnight showing of Harry Potter with my mom," Dave coughed through what Kurt gathered was an accidental confession.

Kurt's eyes narrowed, "You mean to tell me that the most popular guy in school has essentially been spending his summer by himself?"

Dave's expression was imperious and not amused.

"Trust me," he growled, slinging his bag over his shoulder, "The irony is not fucking lost on me. So are you done interrogating me or should I take a seat and get comfortable again?"

Kurt's lips pursed and then he sighed, "Sorry, I wasn't trying to upset you."

The two of them silently finished cleaning their space and Kurt caught himself looking at Dave more than once in the process. It both surprised and saddened Kurt that Dave seemed so by himself and so resigned to that reality.

"You know," Kurt piped up, "Now that you and I are friends, maybe . . . I don't know, we could hang out some time."

He quailed slightly under Dave's blank stare but squared his shoulders and lifted his chin.

"We should hang out," he repeated with more conviction, "I planned on throwing some kind of summer thing with everyone from Glee and-"

"You really expect me to hang out with that rat pack," Dave let out a soft snort of amusement, "You hit your head recently or did you forget that everyone from Glee hates me?"

Kurt shook his head, "They don't know you like I do. If they had the chance-"

"And what do you know about me, Fancy," Dave slammed his bag against the table, "Tell me what you know. That I'm gay? That I play football? That I'm a friendless loser who just happens to be the most popular loser in the fucking dead-end loser town? Is that what you know, hm?"

Kurt gaped at Dave for a moment in shock, his brain failing to process most of what the other boy had said because he was still stuck on the first declaration that had come, seemingly unbidden, from the other boy's mouth.

"That's the first time I've ever heard you say it out loud," he croaked, still stunned.

Dave seemed confused for a moment and then, as if a cloud were lifting, all the rage and confusing in his features melted into a mask of slight horror.

"Holy fuck," Dave sat down hard and stared at his crumpled bag on the table, "Fuck . . ."

Kurt sat down slowly, too, looking at Dave with a cautious expression, "Is that the first time you've said out loud _ever_?"

Dave only licked his lips and nodded. Kurt tried not to but he couldn't help but grin and scoot his chair closer.

"How does it feel? How do _you_ feel?"

"Fucking Christ, Hummel," Dave scoffed, "Do you expect me to jump up and down and squeal with excitement over the fact that I just admitted to my only friend that I'm queer as a flying unicorn that shits glitter and fairy dust?"

Kurt burst out laughing, earning a harsh _sh!_ from the librarian. He choked down his laughter.

"Well, if you're going to fucking laugh at me," but Kurt could see a smile tugging at the corners of Dave's mouth.

'I'm sorry," Kurt managed to say though his fit of quiet giggles, "But not even _I_ am that queer, and if you come to this party, I swear to you that I won't be your only friend anymore. Please?"

Dave chuckled softly and he sighed.

"Fine," he finally replied, "I will come to your little . . . thing."

"You have to try to make friends, too," Kurt pressed, "I mean, you already have me and you have . . . Santana? Two out of twelve isn't _awful_."

"Yeah, yeah, Fancy, I got it," Dave waved his hand, "I got it. I'll come, I'll be social."

Kurt knew his grin was far too triumphant for his own good.

**o.O.o.G.o.L.o.E.o.E.o.O.o**

"You want to do what now?"

Kurt swallowed hard at the look of stern disbelief on his father's face.

Carole was sitting across from him, her fork still clamped down between her lips as she looked back and forth between Kurt and her husband. Finn was next to his mother, trying to pretend that the food on his plate, the ceiling, the back of his hand, anything, was more interesting that what was happening at the table, but it was plain to Kurt's eyes that the taller boy didn't look any happier than Kurt's father.

Kurt looked around and took a deep breath, trying again.

"I want to invite Dave and New Directions over for a barbeque. I think it would be really helpful for Dave," he explained, "Dave doesn't really seem to having any friends-"

"Sort of his own fault," Finn interjected with a disgruntled growl.

"Yes, maybe that's true," Kurt mused in a slow reply, "But he's not a bad guy and New Directions is known for its reputation of being a place to go when you have nowhere else."

"Dude, he threatened to kill you and you don't think he's a bad guy," Finn scoffed, his fork clattering to his plate.

"Dave made a mistake, Finn," Kurt snapped, "Seems I can recall you making a few mistakes, too, and no one is holding a grudge against _you_ for it. What, exactly, makes you so much better than him, or more deserving of acceptance and friends?"

"Well, I never made someone fear for their lives," Finn began and Kurt slapped the table with the open palm of his hand.

"Do I look afraid for my life now," he asked, glaring at his taller brother, "Do I _sound_ afraid? Are people supposed to cling to their pasts and hold everyone else accountable for things they've done wrong forever? If that's the case, then you and I should _hate_ each other."

There was silence at the table, only the light cling of Carole's fork against her place was heard as she set it down. Finn stared at Kurt, his face screwed up in a confused, thoughtful expression. Burt and Carole remained completely silent, and Kurt knew he had won this fight.

"I have forgiven you for bullying me and, I would hope, you have forgiven me for stalking and trying to change you," Kurt said softly, "We were able to grow past our differences and mistakes, and I consider you one of the best friends I have. Having you as my older brother has turned out to be so much more fulfilling than it would have been to have you as my . . . my, you know."

Kurt blushed, momentarily distracted by the slightly queasy expression on his father's face and the soft, mirthful smile Carole was hiding behind her napkin.

"So . . .," he finally continued, "If you and I can set things right and become family, then Dave and I can set things right and become friends."

Finn's mouth was set in a hard line, but Kurt knew he'd gotten through to the quarterback.

"Fine," Finn said, "But the moment you change your mind, you let me know."

"You'll all be the first to know, but honestly," Kurt continued, "I just want to help someone who is trying to get back on their feet. Besides, I kind of already told him that I wanted us to be friends. In fact, we've been friends for a while now."

"Well, son," Burt finally spoke up, "It's not like you need my permission or approval to become friends with whoever you like, though I have to say I ain't wild about any of this and I never have been. I get what you're trying to do, and I figure that with all the time you've spent with him, this was inevitable. You're a good person, far more understanding than you have to be."

"I don't think I'm better than anyone else, Dad," Kurt shrugged, "Just doesn't make sense to me to hate someone who's doing all he can to make things right."

Burt nodded and went back to his meal. Carole followed his lead and Finn looked argued out. Kurt smiled inwardly; this was progress.


	3. Chapter 3

"Thanks for inviting us over," Mercedes kissed Kurt's cheek as she walked in, Sam following closely behind.

Kurt could only assume she'd given him a ride to help him save gas money for work, but he'd noticed the two of them spending increasing amounts of time together. It wasn't like Mercedes to keep secrets from him, but Kurt was starting to suspect that something was going on.

"There are refreshments on the patio in the back," he told the two, looking past them and up and down the street, looking for . . .

As if the jock had been reading his thoughts, Dave's blue truck rounded the corner. Without realizing it, a huge grin spread over his face and he practically bolted out of the door to help direct Dave to a parking place on the street.

His smile faltered and he slowed down when he noticed Dave was not alone in his truck.

"What the . . .," he muttered.

Dave slid into the space with an effortless parallel park onto the curb of the street and the passenger's side opened. A tall, lanky boy with shaggy, dirty blonde hair and oversized glasses hopped out with a big grin on his face. Dave came around the side, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Hey, I'm Nelson," the thin boy quipped, "I hope it's okay that Davey brought me without an invite."

Kurt looked at Dave, who stayed oddly silent, but looked apologetic enough. Kurt shook his head, plastering on a fake smile.

"No problem, Nelson," he said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

He didn't even know _why_ he was annoyed. Dave had a friend to bring with him. Wasn't that a good thing? It just meant Dave wasn't alone, even if Kurt had never seen this Nelson guy in his life.

Still, as the two of them passed Kurt to get into the house, Dave casting an odd, hesitant look at him as he went inside, Kurt couldn't help the tight, unhappy feeling in his chest.

**o.O.o.G.o.L.o.E.o.E.o.O.o**

"Yes," Blaine's voice answered at the other end.

"It's me," Kurt hissed from inside the bathroom, where he was currently hiding from his guests.

There was a chuckle in his ear.

"I have caller ID, babe," Kurt's boyfriend replied, "What's wrong? I thought you had your 'induct Dave into your merry band of friends' barbeque today."

The slight twinge of disdain and sarcasm laced Blaine's tone and Kurt scowled, his mouth folding into a deep frown. Convincing Blaine that this was something he needed to do had been even more difficult than it been with his family, especially when he told Blaine that it was probably a good idea that he not come. After all, every other time they'd come in direct contact with each other, shoving occurred. Blaine had been nothing less than completely put out.

"_I really don't like this," Blaine fumed._

"_Well, I don't recall asking for your permission," Kurt snapped back, arms crossed tightly over his chest and his body canted away from Blaine._

"_Why don't you just admit the real reason you don't want me there," Blaine nearly shouted, checking his volume midway through the sentence._

"_What _ real_ reason, Blaine," Kurt hissed, the flats of his palms pressing onto the coffee shop table, "I want him to make friends without having to worry about you trying to out him in public."_

_Blaine gave him a look so incredulous, Kurt thought the caterpillars over the other boy's eyes were going to turn into butterflies and spring off his face._

"_You are certainly one to talk, Mister 'You're brave with your fists but a coward when it comes to the truth'," Blaine leaned forward and mocked, "Or how about, 'Come out, make a difference'."_

_Kurt flushed a deep crimson._

"_I've had a chance to apologize to Dave for those things. At least I'm aware that what I did was unfair," he told his boyfriend._

"_Oh, and I'm completely oblivious," Blaine growled back._

"_Don't even fucking get me started," Kurt whipped back._

Blaine had looked genuinely hurt by that comment and it took over an hour for the two of them to work their way through the argument to the point where Blaine was at least conceding that it would probably be easier for Dave to be less tense if he wasn't around.

"Kurt," Blaine's voice called for what sounded like more than the first time.

"Sorry, yeah. I called you cause something weird happened," Kurt continued to whisper.

"Someone exploded," Blaine offered.

"No, Dave brought a _guest_."

Silence.

"Did you hear me," Kurt whined into the receiver.

"I heard you, Kurt," Blaine sighed, "And I'm failing to see the issue."

"It's a _boy_," Kurt choked out.

There was another pause and Kurt gave an exasperated sigh.

"I'm still failing to see the issue, baby," Blaine said in a bemused tone, "He brought a guy along. The guy won't even come out. Do you really think he'd bring a boyfriend or a date with him to a barbeque with a bunch of people who don't even like him?"

Kurt pouted, "The point of him coming was to be social."

He could practically envision Blaine rolling his eyes as the sounds of the boy shifting around carried over the ear piece.

"Did you even bother to ask Karofsky-"

"Dave," Kurt interrupted.

"Dave," the name was terse and bitten off as Blaine continued, "Did you bother to ask him how they know each other?"

Kurt blushed and caught his expression in the mirror, flustered, wide-eyed and frazzled.

"Well . . .," he mumbled, "Not exactly."

"I'm hanging up now, baby," Blaine finally said, "Deal with this yourself."

Kurt gasped at his phone as Blaine disconnected and immediately redialed Blaine.

"What the hell," he sputtered as the line reconnected.

"I'm your boyfriend, not your advice columnist," Blaine snapped, sounding annoyed.

"Could have fooled me, asshole," and Kurt returned the favor, hanging up abruptly, fuming.

A second later the phone rang and Kurt answered, "What?"

"Don't call me anymore," Blaine spat.

"FINE," Kurt shouted.

"FINE," Blaine shouted back before the line went dead.

Kurt sat shaking for a moment before he stood. He splashed water over his face and then gripped the edge of the sink for a few seconds before he realized how hard he was trembling. He wasn't entirely sure what had just happened, but he was pretty sure that he and Blaine had just broken up. And over what? Dave bringing a boy to his barbeque? It wasn't like Kurt was jealous after all, right?

Right?

_We're just friends_, he told himself firmly, _Sure, he's smart and funny and not a half-bad guy, but that's all_.

So why was it making him so upset that Dave had brought this Nelson guy with him? It made absolutely not sense for him to be this worked up over someone he didn't know. He still barely knew Dave. They spent just as much time together having silly quarrels as they spent laughing over stupid jokes. Dave was the only person Kurt knew who was just as sarcastic and prone to dry humor as he was. Dave was much smarter than Kurt realized; he'd essentially done all the clerical work on figuring out how much things cost and what kind of budget they were looking at for the year and seemed to be brimming with ideas on how to work the system in their favor.

That was the thing about Dave. Every time Kurt thought he had the other boy figured out, Dave would do something to throw him off-track again.

Kurt was thrust from his thoughts by a knock on the door.

"Just a minute," his voice cracked as he tried to pat all the moisture from his face, hoping that he didn't look too flushed.

'Kurt?"

He froze upon hearing Dave's questioning tone on the other side of the door.

"Hey, you okay?"

Kurt smoothed his hands over his shirt and opened the door, stepping back as Dave unexpectedly pushed into the bathroom.

"Have you been in here the whole time," Dave asked as he closed the door, frowning when Kurt nodded, "Why? This is your thing and I thought you were going to help me."

"Nelson is here though," Kurt sneered, still upset, "Why does it matter if I help you make friends?"

Kurt avoided eye contact with Dave as the taller boy eyed him.

"Do you . . . Do you think I brought Nelson here as i_date/i_," he heard Dave ask, and his gaze flicked up. Dave looked confused, but also more amused than anything else.

"He's not," Kurt ventured the question slowly.

Dave snorted, "Not unless both of us have a thing for kissing cousins."

Kurt blanked and stared at Dave, who was smirking deeply at him.

"Nelson is your . . ." he offered weakly.

"You were jealous," Dave replied and Kurt could hear the shock in the other boy's voice, "You were jealous of Nelson. You thought we were dating."

Kurt's face got more and more red. He could tell that Dave was doing his level best not to laugh, but Kurt had never felt more embarrassed or stupid. And when he realized, as the thought of what had just transpired between Blaine and him sank in, he began to shake again.

"Kurt," Dave suddenly sounded concerned, "Kurt, what's wrong?"

"I . . . I called Blaine," Kurt croaked, "How could I be so i_stupid/i_? I called Blaine because I was angry. I was angry that you brought a boy with you."

He could feel Dave's heavy stare on him and he wilted a little, willing himself to look up at Dave.

"We fought . . . I think," Kurt let out a soft sob, "I think we broke up."

The sob turned into choked off, disbelieving laughter. He looked at Dave, who looked back at him evenly, though slight concern was still evident in his eyes.

"Well," Kurt asked, lifting his hands in defeat.

"Well, what," Dave asked, "Am I supposed to comfort you? Am I supposed to encourage you to try and get him back?"

Kurt scoffed, "We both know you never liked each other. Why do you think I never talked about him with you?"

"But you talked about me with him?"

Kurt stopped short of his response, but nodded slowly after a moment.

"Why," Dave asked, leaning back against the door and crossing his large forearms over his middle.

Kurt shrugged, taking a seat on the toilet.

"I guess I wanted him to see the Dave Karofsky I saw. The guy I thought was smart and funny and not so bad," Kurt finally said after a while, "I'm wanted him to like you as much as I do . . ."

Kurt looked up at Dave, whose gaze was locked on the linoleum flooring. The thinner teen stood and moved in front of the jock.

"Dave," he said softly, reaching out, his fingers gently brushing over the soft layer of hair that covered the boy's arm.

Their eyes met and a small shiver moved through Kurt and he, unbidden, moved in closer.

"You really think I'm smart," Dave asked, his voice gruff, "And funny?"

Kurt smiled gently, "I don't befriend easily unless they're at least one or the other. You happen to be both, so I like you all the better."

He watched Dave lick his lower lips as the other boy's eyes searched his.

"You also like me enough to be jealous of a guy I brought to your party," Dave asked and Kurt blushed, looking down at his hands, which was still petting Dave's arm. His face reddened further and he dropped the overly friendly hand to his side.

"I guess," he tried to be nonchalant, "Maybe I was upset because I thought you'd gone and made a friend who would replace me."

"Bullshit," Dave replied, but Kurt heard no malice in his tone, "You thought he was my boyfriend and you called your own to cry about it."

"Well, what do you want me to say," Kurt snapped, frustrated, "You want me to say that somewhere in the last few weeks my feelings for you have started to change? That maybe I like you more than I thought I did?"

"Would you be telling the truth if you said that," Dave inquired, and there was no mistaking the hope in the boy's voice.

Kurt looked up at Dave, surprised.

"Wait, do you like me," he asked in barely a whisper.

Dave looked at Kurt so seriously the singer though he might break under the weight of his stare.

"What do you think, Fancy," Dave replied in a low voice.

Kurt felt his entire body flush at those words and the way Dave spoke them, his voice not only low but a little bit husky. How had he managed not to pick up on it at all? Dave had always acted unaffected by Kurt unless he touched him and Kurt had always figured it was because he didn't like the familiarity.

"How long," Kurt whispered.

"Does it matter," Dave asked, and then sighed as Kurt's narrowed, "Ever since prom, when you showed up in your kilt and claimed your crown . . . Or maybe sooner, when you were in your Gaga costume. Feels like I realize it again and again. You do that to me."

"How did I not notice," Kurt asked.

"I made a point of not being obvious and you were happy enough with someone else not to see," Dave murmured, his voice sad.

Kurt couldn't respond. It felt to him like everything was shutting down around him. He wasn't sure what was up or down anymore.

"Look," Dave finally broke the silence, "You're worked up over Blaine and this. Let's go outside and eat and talk to people and then figure all of this out later."

"Just one question," Kurt stopped Dave as the boy made to open the door, "The waiting after our meetings. Was that because you liked me or . . .?"

"Kind of," Dave winced, "I just wanted to make sure you left without being bothered by anyone. I mean, I knew no one would because we were usually the only ones there but . . . I protected you at school. I . . . enjoyed feeling that I could protect you, at least from some things."

The close quarters went silent. Kurt knew what Dave was talking about.

"That wasn't your . . .," Kurt began to say.

"I should have danced . . .," Dave said at the same time.

"What," they replied simultaneously, both their faces going a bit red.

"Well, that wasn't clichéd at all," Kurt chuckled softly.

"Let's get out of here before things get anymore awkward," Dave suggested in a pleading tone.


	4. Chapter 4

Unfortunately, as far as awkward was concerned, leaving the bathroom felt a little bit like leaping out of the frying pan into the fire.

It turned out that, despite his geeky, douchebag hipster appearance, Nelson was pretty good with the ladies. The moment he started talking to any of them they'd get this dreamy look on their face and Kurt would see a flash of movement as the significant other of whichever girl it was came to intercept his lady. Kurt noted the way Sam came in-between Nelson and Mercedes with a deep scowl on his face, his hands balled up into fists. He also noticed that only Santana seemed wholly unaffected by Nelson until he started in on Brittany. After that, the slender ex-cheerleader glared daggers for the rest of the afternoon, even after Artie cut in and wheeled the naïve blonde off.

Dave fared shakily with Finn and Puck, but against Mike, Artie, and Sam, he completely froze up. Kurt tried coaxing the boy gently, and it seemed like all of the guys were trying to give him a chance, but it was obvious that Dave was nervous.

"Sorry about the locker room," he mumbled to the three of them, and Kurt winced as the guy looked at the grass with a completely dejected expression on his face.

Kurt was relieved when Mike almost immediately stuck out a hand for Dave to shake.

"You protected Kurt, and it's obvious things are different with you two now," the lithe jock stated without sarcasm, "You may have been a jackass before, but I don't see that now."

Dave swallowed hard and turned his gaze on Sam.

"If you, I don't know, need to punch me in the face or whatever . . .," he muttered and the full-lipped towhead.

Sam's lips were set in a thin line as he shrugged.

"Just watch your back if you ever fuck with Kurt again," Sam threatened.

Kurt honestly couldn't tell how serious Sam was but he could see that Dave was taking it completely seriously, even though in a fight Dave could probably wipe the floor with the guy, and _had_, in fact, done exactly that. Artie seemed more or less on board with letting the issue go. Kurt's eyes flicked up to see Finn watching everything very suspiciously and he rolled his eyes at the taller boy, whose frown deepened.

Dave turned and Kurt caught his expression as the boy tapped his arm gently. It was determined and resolved.

"I think I should tell them," Dave said.

Kurt's eyes went wide for a second.

"Are you sure?"

"Tell us what," Brittany quipped, tugging Santana along behind her.

Kurt watched as Brittany's question drew the attention of everyone in the yard. He rested a hand on Dave's forearm and searched his face.

"If I'm going to be friends with them, then they should know," Dave assured Kurt gently, making firm eye contact.

"And Nelson," Kurt whispered.

"I trust him not to tell my folks," Dave replied, as if that settled it.

By this time, the rest of New Directions were all gathered, their curiosity piqued by the whispered of the former enemies.

"What's going on," Finn piped up, sounding upset by the sudden intimacy Kurt and Dave were displaying.

Dave looked up at all of them and Kurt kept his place next to the tall jock, ready to defend him if need be.

"I was a jerk to you guys. I have no excuse for it. But there's a reason I was worse to Kurt," Dave started slowly.

"Oh, shit, Karofsky," Santana gasped and Kurt's gaze locked on her.

It dawned on him that Santana knew, that she had always known, or at least, she had for a while. But why then . . .?

"What," Rachel chimed in, obviously frustrated by not knowing what Kurt and Santana apparently already knew.

Dave took a deep breath and, without thinking, Kurt took the boy's hand. He saw everyone's eyes narrow instantly.

"Oh my God," Tina breathed.

"I targeted Kurt because I was scared," Dave began again, "And I was jealous. I hated him because he represented something about me that I hated."

"Shit," Puck whispered.

Kurt watched as realization slowly dawned on everyone's face. Only Nelson and Brittany looked completely confused.

"I'm gay," Dave said softly, confirming everyone's realization and finally bringing Brittany to full understanding.

Nelson, however, was simply shaking his head, a small, amused look on his face. Kurt frowned and looked at him.

"What's so funny," Kurt asked, chin lifted in challenge.

Nelson's blue eyes sparkled with mirth from behind his large lenses and he swiped the hair off his forehead with his hand as he chuckled.

"I found some . . . things hidden in Davey's room when I came to visit him last summer," he held up his hands quickly and Kurt felt Dave tense next to him, "I wasn't meaning to go through your stuff but your moms told me to put some stuff away for her. Needless to say, I've suspected for a while."

Kurt could practically feel Dave's blush without even having to look at the guy's face. He squeezed the other boy's hand before stepping forward.

"The reason Dave and I started up PFLAG was so that I could help him come to terms with his sexuality, whatever it might be, while simultaneously educating him about the LGBT culture," Kurt offered the small audience of peers, who were trading glances as if they still couldn't believe what was going on.

Dave stepped up next to him again and Kurt looked at the boy, whose jaw was working beneath his skin.

"What I did to Kurt was inexcusable. What I did to all of you, I don't expect I'll really ever make it up, but . . . I'm not ready for everyone to know about me. I'm not ready to be out to the world," he said softly, "I told you guys because you deserve to know, but I'm begging you-"

"We're not going to tell anyone your secret, Karofsky," Santana butted in then and there, "After all, if I can keep it, everyone else here can," and the tall brunette leveled her gaze at everyone fiercely, daring to protest about Santana speaking for them, but the club remained quiet, slowly nodding their heads in agreement like the Latina had put some sort of hex on them.

"Maybe we should eat now, I'm sure the coals are more than ready, right Finn," Kurt said in a shaky voice, looking to his step-brother who still seemed lost in thought, "Finn?"

"Right, yeah, probably ready," Finn finally responded and the whole of them moved over to the grill to start putting on some food.

**o.O.o.G.o.L.o.E.o.E.o.O.o**

That night, Kurt found it nearly impossible to sleep, his thoughts drifting through the events of the day. After turning his phone back on, he saw that he'd received several texts, phone calls and even a few desperate and slightly condescending voicemails. With every one that he read or listened to, Kurt became more and more unsure of what to do. He'd been so certain only a few months ago that Blaine was everything he wanted and needed in a boyfriend. Blaine was charming, sweet, if not slightly naïve, and, for the most part, wonderfully predictable.

But perhaps it was Blaine's predictability that finally caused Kurt to realize that there could be so much more to their relationship. It bothered him that he always knew exactly how Blaine was going to react to everything. He never thought for a moment that predictability would become tiresome and boring, or that he would find himself second guessing everything about their relationship. Dave hadn't even factored into those feelings at all until only recently.

Everything about Dave surprised Kurt. For the longest time Kurt perceived him to be nothing but a no-brained jock who only knew how to talk through clenched teeth and fists. Sure, Dave still had a fairly fiery temper, much like Kurt did when provoked, but he wasn't as violent or dense as Kurt once believed. There was intelligence there. Dave had hidden a lot behind his letterman jacket and oafish jock façade. Seeing the boy come out of his shell had been one of the most singularly eye-opening experiences that Kurt had ever had.

Kurt stared at the ceiling, wondering what Dave was doing in that moment. Was he also thinking about everything that happened in the last few months, in the last twenty-four hours alone? Kurt still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that he'd essentially missed any and all indications that Dave might feel more than just a friendship level of interest in him. As he sifted through all of their encounters it slowly dawned on him the way Dave would look at him with this starved, desperate expression. Before now, Kurt had always assumed it to be hate and fear, but it was becoming apparent to Kurt as he lay under his thick comforter, that there had always been something there, and he had been too blind and caught up in himself to see it.

_No one has ever liked me first before_, he thought to himself, his body glowing with dull warmth.

He was more excited about this than he felt he should be, but it was nice to finally find that he was desirable just as he was, that he hadn't had to _do_ anything to garner Dave's affection, that it had always been there under the surface. He hadn't had to conform or stalk or pine. Dave just felt it for him. Somehow, Kurt found this thought intoxicating.

That only left two questions: What was he going to do about Blaine and what was he going to do about Dave?

Kurt rolled to his side and gently pressed the call button his thumb had been hovering over the better part of the last hour, gently pressing his iPhone to the shell of his ear.

"Kurt," Blaine's voice came frantic from the other end, "Kurt, thank Go-"

"Before you start thanking the big man up in the sky, I think we need to talk . . .," Kurt whispered.

Half an hour later it was done and Kurt clutched his phone to his chest, tears slipping down his cheeks. As much as he knew this was the right thing to do, it still hurt. Somewhere deep inside him, Kurt knew he'd always feel something for Blaine. It just wasn't going to be what he thought he'd feel. He didn't try to lie or sugarcoat the situation over the telephone by telling Blaine they could still be friends, but it was his fervent hope that they would be able to do just that. Kurt didn't want to imagine his life without the person that had helped him to regain some modicum of self-awareness, even if the methods were backward and contradictory at times. The most painful thing, in the end, was hearing how hurt Blaine sounded but how resigned the boy seemed to be to the fate of their relationship.

Kurt rubbed the heel of his palm roughly over his eyes, pushing his tears away and sniffling loudly before opening up a new text message.

_Dave_

_Pick me up for our next PFLAG meeting. I think you and I need to talk._

**o.O.o.G.o.L.o.E.o.E.o.O.o**

He knew what he was risking as he knocked on the door of his father's in-home office. Kurt was almost entirely sure he was going to have a mess on his hands in about five minutes time, but this was something he was going to have to do at some point no matter what. It was better to get it out of the way as soon as possible.

"Yeah," his father acknowledged from the other side of the slightly cracked door.

"It's me, Dad," Kurt nudged the door open further and stuck in his head, "Can I talk to you about something?"

"Can it wait, I gotta finish finalizing this paperwork," Burt said calmly, glancing at Kurt over his reading glasses.

"It's . . . kind of important," Kurt insisted, his cheeks flaring a slight shade of pink.

Burt paused and lowered the paper in his hands, "Is this a boy thing?"

Kurt slipped in and shut the door behind him, clasping his hands and standing before his father, shuffling his feet a little.

"It's more of a _boys_ thing," he admitted, wincing as his dad frowned a little bit before nodding to the chair next to the window.

Kurt hurriedly rushed for an elegant, old-fashioned looking chair with plush velvet cushioning next to the window, and sat down. It was one of the few pieces of his mother left in their new house, but as much as he loved this old chair, it didn't really comfort him in this moment, just before he was sure his father would likely have another heart attack.

"I have some things I have to say and I really need you to stay calm," Kurt said slowly, afraid to make eye contact with Burt, whose stare he could feel like it was boring through him, "It's probably not going to make you happy but I have to tell you."

He looked up to see that Burt was still just looking silently on at him and Kurt took that as permission to speak.

"I broke up with Blaine the other day," Kurt started, "There were a lot of reasons why and I thought I'd be really broken up about it. Last Christmas I thought I wanted to be with him forever. I thought I was in love with him. When he told me he loved me before summer started, I was so confused. I thought I felt the same until I heard him say the words and even though I said them back, there was something that just felt . . . off about it."

"After that it was like things just got worse. I just kept seeing all these things about him that drove me nuts," Kurt continued, resting his chin in his palm and staring out the window, "It frustrated me because he was perfect. I thought he was perfect, anyway. He'd helped me so much and he was such a nice guy. But I didn't _feel_ anything when I was around him. Being with him was becoming tedious and boring. And you know me, Dad, if there's anything I can't stand, it's to be bored."

He glanced at his father, who was slowly nodding, but Kurt could tell he was waiting for Kurt to get to the point.

"Dave isn't boring," Kurt said softly, "And I _really_ don't know how or when it happened, or why and it really confuses me because I should hate him or at least feel repelled by him or something," he locked eyes with Burt again, his voice quavering at the man's narrowed gaze, "But I don't. I like him, Dad and . . . I think I like him as more than a friend. I don't think I love him or anything, but there's something about him I can't shake. He's interesting and different. I feel challenged by him without feeling inferior."

Kurt's voice died out and he stared at Burt, his body tense and waiting for his dad's response. He felt like he waited eons for the man to finally speak and was worried that he'd put Burt into some kind of shock. He looked down at his hands and noticed the knuckles had gone white from gripping his knee too hard.

"Dad," he said softly as he slowly unclasped his hands and flexed them, only to press them into the cushion on either side of him, "Dad, are you okay?"

"What do you want me to say, kid," Burt sighed, his voice and face and body looking tired, "My son just told me that he thinks he has feelings for the guy that bullied him."

"Dave isn't the boy who bullied me anymore," Kurt said softly, "He's not that boy. He's not Karofsky."

"Are they different people," Burt replied.

"Yes," Kurt said firmly, "They are."

"Do you remember what happened the last time you fell for a straight guy," Burt asked, sounding frustrated.

"I . . . learned my lesson the first time," Kurt put forth cautiously, hoping his dad would understand.

He met Burt's level gaze, watching as Burt's eyes widened slightly and he slumped back in his chair, looking shocked.

"Damn," Kurt heard Burt whisper under his breath, "Damn . . ."

"He likes me, too, Dad, or I wouldn't even be talking to you about this," Kurt finally pounded the last nail into what might be his or his dad's coffin.

"Are you telling me," Burt said in a clipped tone, "That you plan to date this guy?"

Kurt swallowed and closed his eyes before he nodded.

"Kurt, I-," Burt started and Kurt heard whatever the man was about to say choke up in his throat, "Kurt, I can't talk about this right now. I need to think. _You_ need to think."

Kurt stood, wiping his sweaty palms over his khaki shorts, "Trust me, Dad, I haven't done anything i_but/i_ think about this," he assured the man, "I wish I could come to some kind of different conclusion but the fact remains that I really like Dave and I really want to see if we can be together. I won't do that without your consent, because this is a bigger deal than just being friends and I couldn't bear to make you unhappy or cause you to worry about me."

"Well, thanks," but Burt didn't sound thankful as he snapped his account book shut and folded his hands over his gut, "Just go on for now, yeah? Let me think about this."

"Yes, Dad," Kurt said, hoping that acquiescing to his father without argument would help him out this time. He saw the slight narrowing of Burt's eyes as he turned and slipped out of the office as quietly as he'd slipped in.


	5. Chapter 5

The next few days were tense and stressful for Kurt. He wanted to ask Burt what he'd decided, but he didn't want to push the man into making a decision that would be out of favor with what Kurt wanted the outcome to be. It was taking every ounce of his self-control to submit to asking for permission at all, because Kurt Hummel was normally not one to ask permission to do anything.

This wasn't any normal situation, though. Dating Dave would have ramifications no matter what. They would probably, at least for a little while, have to keep their relationship a secret. Kurt had been in a closet once and he had to admit to himself he didn't necessarily want to go back in. He wasn't about to, however, force Dave to come out to be with him. At least the other boy was out to New Directions. For now, that was more than enough.

First, he had to get his dad to concede to letting Kurt date someone who scared the living hell out of him, a task much easier said than done. Dave was going to pick him up for their PFLAG meeting the next day and Kurt wanted to be able to actually talk to him as he said he would.

So when his dad invited him into his study that night after dinner, Kurt was expectedly nervous. His heart felt like it was lodged in his throat and stuck so fast he wouldn't be able to swallow it back down for days. Kurt sat down, this time across from his father, his hands folded tightly in his lap.

"You've really surprised me, kiddo," Burt started, shaking his head, "I've seen you argue and debate over everything you've ever wanted. I've never known you to ever just sit down and wait for whatever Fate chooses to hand you. You're a lot of things, I'm not about to tell you that you're a really patient person. It's not a bad thing. You go for what you want. That's admirable."

Kurt chewed absently at the inside of his cheek, waiting for his father to keep going.

"I'm not exactly sure how to respond to any of this. The fact that you even asked me if it's okay is still kind of blowing my mind a little bit," Burt admitted, "And I'll bet it's been killing you not to bug me about it constantly. I've never seen you be so patient, so I can't help but think this must be something really important to you."

"It is," Kurt told his dad, nodding eagerly, "It is, Dad."

"I can tell," Burt replied in an even tone, "I can't . . . really say I'm happy with you about this, but I also know better than to tell you to try to control your emotions. No one can help who they fall for, no matter how much they might wish that they could. I would never have pegged you to start liking that Karofsky kid and I can't say it particularly pleases me that you did, but if you feel something for him, and he feels the same way, what can I really do? If I stand in your way you'll be miserable and that's not really something I think I can handle seeing."

Kurt smiled, his excitement brimming to the point where he thought he might explode.

"But I want to meet this guy. The last time we saw each other was under bad circumstances and I want to know this Dave you think you like," Burt insisted in an even tone.

"He's picking me up for PFLAG tomorrow," Kurt replied, looking a little bit sheepish, "I'd planned to talk to him tomorrow about . . . us. After our meeting I can bring him back, if things go well, that is."

"If he likes you half as much as you think he might, they'll go well," Burt replied, chuckling softly.

Kurt stood up and moved around the desk, leaning down to hug his father hard.

"Thanks, Dad, thanks for trusting me," he whispered and smiled when his father happily hugged him back.

"You're my kid and if I don't trust you, what kind of relationship can I expect to have with you," Burt replied as Kurt pulled away, "I love you, Kurt. I just want you to be happy."

Kurt smiled and kissed the top of his dad's head, grinning one last time before he bounded out of the room, his heart pounding in his chest, where it belonged, like it might explode from its confines.

_Dad down, Dave Karofsky to go_, he thought, leaping up the stairs two by two to his bedroom.

**o.O.o.G.o.L.o.E.o.E.o.O.o**

Kurt spent more time than he possibly should have choosing what he would wear the next day. After all, if there was anyone who didn't really care how he looked, it was Dave. The guy wasn't exactly allergic to all things fashion; he just couldn't really be bothered to care about it. Dave was, by all accounts, the exact polar opposite of Kurt, but Kurt liked that.

Still, he couldn't help but fret over each piece nervously as he traded them out to assemble the perfect outfit. One last run of his fingers through his newly shorn hair and Kurt assessed himself in the mirror. He looked surprisingly toned down today, wearing the same outfit he'd worn when he chased Dave down after a particularly brutal shove into the lockers. Looking over the outfit, he expected a rush of negative feelings and bad memories, but instead he only felt it ironic that on the day he was going to try and sort out his feelings, he was wearing the same clothing he'd worn on the day everything got thrown into confusion in the first place. He wondered if Dave would notice.

Dave showed up in his beaten up blue truck just in time and Kurt leapt out of his front door with a hurried "goodbye!" to his family. He didn't want anyone to talk to Dave until he had. He scrambled as gracefully as he could into the other boy's vehicle, smoothing his hands over his graphic tee before buckling himself in.

Only then did he finally turn to Dave with a shy smile, "Hi," he whispered, breathless.

He bit his lip as Dave regarded him, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Hey," Dave rumbled back at him, slowly pulling back out into the street and heading in the direction of the library.

"Do you think maybe we could head somewhere a little more private," Kurt asked slowly, his eyes forward as a blush crept over his cheeks, "I don't want to have to whisper or worry about being watched."

"Have a place in mind," Dave asked and Kurt could tell he was trying to be nonchalant, but a quick flick of his eyes to the side showed the larger boy's hands visibly tightening over the steering wheel.

"The pond," Kurt suggested lightly, "Or the little overgrown orchard just outside of town?"

The Orchard was a place best known as a "parking" spot, especially in late spring when all the apple blossoms were in full explosion and the nights were still cool enough that one wanted to go find a place to warm up after a long, romantic evening with their significant other. The pond was a sad little puddle in the middle of their miniscule park. Kurt knew which one he'd prefer to have this particular conversation and wasn't surprised when Dave took the first turn off to aim them towards the edge of Lima.

There was an awkward silence for a few moments before Dave finally reached over and turned the volume up on his radio, which was, to Kurt's surprise, set to a soft jazz station. He made to say something to the other boy, but noticed that the tips of Dave's ears were bright pink, as if he was embarrassed that Kurt had found out that he wasn't listening to something like hip-hop or R&B.

What surprised Kurt even more was the fact that Dave seemed to be really knowledgeable about whatever happened to be playing and, before long, had even started to hum along. Kurt tried to pretend that he didn't notice, but he wasn't entirely sure that Dave realized he was doing it. The air in the cabin thrummed with the vibrations that emitted from Dave's chest as he hummed, his dark, silky baritone filling the space. Kurt could barely contain his awe. He'd never heard Dave sing, he didn't even know Dave _could_ sing, but based on the quality of the boy's humming, Dave's voice was nothing to sneeze about.

"Do you mind if I change stations," Kurt said, inspecting his nails and trying not to act as if there weren't a plan brewing in his mind at that very moment.

He heard Dave start a little next to him and then grunt his permission. Kurt's fingers gently wrapped around the tuning switch and gave it a twist, flipping to the next station. Loud rock blared through the speakers and he grimaced, immediately moving on until he settled on a more mainstream channel that he knew played a good mix of everything. Then, he sat back without a word and waited.

It only took about five minutes, but soon Dave was singing along without a thought and Kurt did everything he could to keep from gaping in sheer surprise. Dave was even better than he thought! How had it taken him two months to discover this little gem the football player had been hiding away?

Before Kurt could say anything, he felt a small jolt shake the truck as Dave turned off the road onto the worn gravel path that would take them to The Orchard. Since it was no longer well cared for, the apples grew wild and were only picked towards the end of fall because they were mostly only good for ciders and preserves now. Kurt could remember the times as a small boy that he'd come out with his mother to pick the large, rosy pieces of fruit, and watching as his mother boiled and fussed over them every fall, making everything from jam, to apple butter, to the best spiced cider on the street. As the scraggly, knotted trees came into view, Kurt momentarily forgot about asking Dave about his singing abilities.

"Can we try to drive in," he asked, his eyes fastened forward.

There was a very narrow foot path that would take them on a slightly winding route into the heart of the small thicket of trees and Dave's truck was likely small enough to travel it without damaging the paint job. He saw Dave nod and gently ease them along that path until they were deep in the cooler shade of the trees, and then he cut the engine.

For a few long minutes, neither of them spoke. Dave rolled down his window and Kurt followed suit, letting in the sharp fragrance of fruit and soil and dank air. Kurt unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to face Dave.

"So my break up with Blaine is official . . .," he said softly, picking at his knit black top before peeling it off, "And . . . I talked to my dad about you . . . about us."

He heard Dave inhale sharply, as if he couldn't believe what it was he was hearing.

"I don't know what this is between us," Kurt continued, still unable to lift his eyes and look at Dave, "I know that there's _something_ about you that I can't shake. I think about you all the time lately. I think about what you're doing and how you are, or how you'd react to something that's happening to me at the moment. It's almost scary how much I think about you."

"I get that," Dave's voice was gruff and unsure, and finally Kurt looked up at him.

He could see fear in Dave's eyes, the same fear he'd seen less than a year ago in the locker room where they'd first kissed. He searched for the anger that had been there as well, but he couldn't find it. At least that was gone.

"I know you're not ready to tell the world about your sexuality," Kurt whispered, tentatively reaching forward to trace a finger shyly over the top of Dave's hand. For once, the boy didn't pull away and Kurt sighed a small breath of relief as he kept on, "I don't know how I feel about being in a secret relationship, either, or even if we have what it takes to be in a relationship. I just know that I'd really like the chance to get to know you better, go on a date with you, hold your hand . . . maybe even kiss you."

His eyes flicked up to meet Dave's and it seemed like the other boy was barely breathing, his lips parted and his skin flushed. Kurt's hand moved to slowly draw itself over Dave's jaw and Dave seemed to convulse under his touch.

"David," Kurt breathed as Dave's hand came up to trap Kurt's hand against his face.

"Are you sure that you want to do this," Dave asked, "I mean, it might be a really long time before I can tell everyone at school about me. Even with the Glee Club knowing, I feel like you deserve better than that."

Their linked hands slowly dropped between them and Kurt stared at them, considering the way Dave's much larger hand seemed to dwarf his, his slender fingers completely encompassed by Dave's wide palm. Kurt smiled, closing his eyes for a moment and simply enjoying how warm Dave's hand was.

"I don't think I really mind all that much, and we still have a month of vacation to really figure that out," Kurt finally said, opening his eyes again and looking at Dave, "We've been planning things all summer, and maybe this isn't exactly something that can be planned, but I don't see why we can't figure out what's best for both of us before the school year starts."

Dave smiled, though his eyes were still a little sad looking, and he looked away from Kurt. Kurt followed Dave's gaze, which wasn't exactly aimed at anything in particular. The two of them just sat, hands held, in complete silence, simply being.

"I didn't know you could sing," Kurt broke the silence with a soft murmur as he moved his thumb over Dave's hand, "Your voice is really nice."

He felt Dave's gaze on him momentarily, as well as Dave's palm grow a little damp. Kurt chuckled to himself and squeezed the other boy's hand affectionately.

"Don't worry, if you want to keep it a secret, I won't tell anyone, and I won't beg you to join New Directions . . . often," Kurt teased, looking over at Dave, who grinned good-naturedly at that, "Where'd you learn to sing?"

"My mom always sang with me as a kid and when I still attended church she made me join the children's choir," Dave admitted, his face flaring into a full on blush, which only caused Kurt to giggle at him, "As soon as I turned thirteen I told Mom I didn't really want to go to church anymore and since Dad never really got into attending she didn't really push. Bet she always figured I might want to start going again some day, but by then I had a pretty good idea that even if I wanted to go back, no one at her church would accept me as I was."

Kurt nodded as Dave told the somber story, "Do you think she'd accept you?"

He watched as Dave's Adam's apple bobbed and he leaned back onto the headrest, staring at the ceiling of his car.

"I dunno," Dave shrugged, "She seems pretty forward thinking for most Christians. I doubt she'd give much of a damn, really. Pretty sure Dad wouldn't care either."

"Then why won't you tell them," Kurt pressed gently, "If you think they'd be supportive."

"If Nelson found my porn collection, Mom probably has, too. They probably know," Dave admitted with a cough, "Figure there's not really much point in a grand announcement, though it'd probably be better if I just told them and got it out of the way."

"Maybe that's something we can work towards before the summer is over," Kurt offered.

"We," Dave asked.

"Yes, we," Kurt asserted, "You don't have to do this alone, Dave. You never did. We've been friends for a while now and, if things work out, we can be more than that. I'm here for you. I want to help you, too, because I remember how much coming out to my dad sucked, even though he'd known all along. I'd never been so scared in my life. Well . . . telling him I liked you came pretty close."

He heard and felt Dave's rough chuckle at that and chuckled along.

"Gotta admit," Dave said in a lighter tone, "This is kind of weird. People usually come here to make out and shit, not have real conversations."

"Well, there's nothing really _stopping_ us from doing both," Kurt said without thinking and then blushed, "I mean, I don't want to rush into anything before we've decided-"

"Kurt if you really think that I don't have every intention of dating you and becoming your boyfriend, you really do have a lot to learn about me," Dave smiled at Kurt, leaning forward a little to brush his lips over Kurt's.

It was completely chaste, but it sent ripples of happiness through Kurt so strong it felt like he'd explode. He smiled and laughed softly as Dave's face remained close to his, their foreheads resting against each other's. There was no doubt in his mind anymore. Dave Karofsky, opposite of him in almost every way, with all his surprises and complexities, was everything he never realized he really wanted. It was like an adventure, and Kurt couldn't wait to begin.


End file.
